


I Just Wanted Steve to Have a Good Cry

by steve_it_only_hurt_a_little_rogers



Series: Stony One Shots [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 13:14:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2469527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steve_it_only_hurt_a_little_rogers/pseuds/steve_it_only_hurt_a_little_rogers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tell me what you think! You can find me on Tumblr at: steve-it-hurt-a-little-rogers</p></blockquote>





	I Just Wanted Steve to Have a Good Cry

"Hey Jarvis, where’s Steve?"

"He’s still in his quarters, sir."

Tony huffed. It had been over 3 months since Steve and Sam had come to the newly finished “Avengers Tower” and, Tony, could count on one hand the number of times he had seen Steve. Sam and Natasha filled, Tony, in first chance they got on what exactly went down in DC and, Tony, understood why, Steve, was so low, but isolating himself like this wasn’t healthy.

"Tell him I’m coming."

Tony wasn’t surprised to find Steve’s door unlocked, the man wasn’t stupid. He knew any attempt to keep Tony out would only be met with an override code or a threat to blast the door with the Iron Man suit. Tony was surprised however to find that the entire room was covered with sketches. He picked some up and they were all of the same subject: Bucky Barnes.

Steve was on his bed, in his usual white tank top and faded jeans, blond hair messy as though it hadn’t seen a comb in a while. He stared at a spot just behind Tony, who walked over and held his hand out for, Steve, to take.

"Ok, Blondie, you’re coming with me."

"I don’t need your pity, Stark," Steve said still not looking at Tony.

"This isn’t pity. This is me telling you to move your ass before I get, Bruce, to come move it for you," Tony sassed.

Steve finally made eye contact and what, Tony, saw in those old blue eyes only made him want to get, Steve, out of this stuffy room more. 

"Fine," Steve grunted getting up, refusing Tony’s hand, "Where are we going?"

"We’re going on a picnic!" Tony smirked.

Steve looked taken aback, like those words were the last thing he thought he’d hear from Tony.

"Yeah, Pepper takes me on them when I need to talk," Tony shrugged, "It does wonders, how else do you think I keep this cool, calm demeanor?" 

Upon seeing, Steve, was about to open his mouth, Tony, quickly added, “Don’t answer that, just be outside in ten minutes or I’m sending the big guy in to drag you out.”

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting in Central Park. Steve was slowly chewing a tuna fish sandwich while, Tony, was munching on a Granny Smith apple. 

"I saw, Pepper, fall," Tony said breaking the silence. Steve stiffened next to him.

"The one of the only people in the world that actually gave a damn about me, and I wasn’t quick enough to catch her."

Steve made an unintelligible noise.

"Speak up, Capsicle. Not everyone was frozen in the body of a twenty-six year old for seventy years."

Steve stood up in a rage and rounded on Tony, “I said do  _NOT_ try to sympathize with me,  _Junior_.” 

Tony stood up too, slightly offended by the ‘junior’ stab, “Oh, and why not? Did the ‘Star Spangled Man with a Plan’ not plan on this, his dead friend coming back a super assassin? Well I’ve got a news flash for you Cap, you can’t plan on everything!”

"I NEVER SAID I COULD!" Steve shouted, "I  _KNOW_ THAT I COULD  _NEVER_ HAVE COUNTED ON SOMETHING LIKE THIS. BUT DON’T STAND THERE ON YOUR HIGH HORSE AND PRETEND THAT YOU KNOW WHAT I’M GOING THROUGH.”  He was starting to attract attention, but Tony didn’t care this needed to happen.

“ _Now_ we’re getting somewhere!” Tony grinned.

Steve grew even redder and Tony knew he was almost at breaking point, he just needed to be pushed a little further.

"What. Do. You WANT FROM ME TONY?" Steve snarled.

"What I want is for you to get angry! To you it probably feels like just yesterday World War Two was still at your doorstep, just yesterday your best friend-  _probably the only person that actually gave a shit about you_ \- fell to his death, just yesterday you died a hero! And what is there to show for it? The government is shit, there’s still war, and America as a whole is a bunch of cynical, paranoid, selfish bastards. And to top it all off your best friend comes back and tries to make you one of his hundreds of kills! You have every right to be pissed off, but instead you hold it in and pretend everything is okay. I, of all people, know how unhealthy that is Steve.”

Tony paused, to see if the Captain had anything to say, but all he was given was a glare that could peel the bark off the surrounding trees.

"Sam’s trying to help you, I’m trying to help you, we’re  _all_  trying to help you Steve. But god damn it  _you’ve got to let us in._ We know there’s no way we can understand everything, we know that the only one that could is- Bucky right?- but, Bucky, can’t be here right now, and when he’s ready we’ll accept him with open arms (I’ll at least _try_ , he thought to himself), for right now though Natasha, Sam, Clint, Bruce, and I are all here and willing to listen. But you’ve got to talk to us.”

Tony put his hand on Steve’s shoulder, “I-I’m  _begging_ you.”

With that Steve broke down. He sobbed on Tony’s shoulder silent tears of deep agony. Tony was a bit shocked at first, he didn’t mean to make the guy cry, but it was better than, Steve, pining in his room. He put his arms around, Steve, and they stayed like that until Tony’s knees were about to give out from Steve’s weight.

"You know we still have more food," Tony said and was glad to hear that it produced a weak chuckle from Steve.

"Dibs on the pie," Steve smiled

"What are you twelve?" Tony scoffed, "I already wrote my name on it!"

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think! You can find me on Tumblr at: steve-it-hurt-a-little-rogers


End file.
